Chapter 5
I stood right next to her, watching as she nursed her milk, taking slow sips until the glass was empty.
She shoved the empty glass at me. "If you've got something to say, spit it out. Don't waste my patience on crap like you."
I put on my most innocent face. "Emily, was it you who reported my mom's restaurant?"
She raised an eyebrow, a smug grin spreading across her face. "Oh? You figured it out?"
"You already drove my mom away, and now my dad's always circling around you. Why do you keep going after her?" I asked.
Emily sneered, "Why bother asking why? Why kick a mangy dog chained up on the street? Why burn ants with a magnifying glass? Why slap a mosquito when you see one?
"It's all the same logic. If she's still around, I can't stand it.
"And don't think you're any better. Just because you sided with your dad doesn't mean you can sit back and feel safe. Let me tell you, that's not happening."
Her hand casually rested on her stomach. "All your dad's money will go to my kid. You, his ex's brat, won't get a single penny.
"If you know what's good for you, you'd better leave this house and go find your damn mom. Otherwise, don't blame me, your stepmom, for getting tough on you. I'm not—"
But before she could finish, her body suddenly swayed, as if her feet had turned to jelly, and she collapsed back onto the couch.
She reached for the armrest, but her arm flopped down, and she went limp on the couch.
A flicker of fear crossed her unfocused eyes. "Did you drug me?"
I crouched down, gently stroking her face, making sure she caught the crazed excitement in my eyes.
"Emily, so you're pregnant, huh? Why didn't you let me in on your little secret earlier?" I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm.
People said pregnant women could miscarry from the slightest touch, and in those TV dramas, some actresses lost their babies from a dirty look.
But when it came to Emily, that damn brat in her belly stuck in there, refusing to budge.
I struggled to drag her up to the second floor, then let her go and watched her roll down the stairs.
But there wasn't a single drop of blood down there, and she was completely knocked out, dead to the world.
So, I lay her out flat and kept landing punches on her stomach, one after another.
There was still no blood. I turned her on her side by the stairs and kicked her in the gut, hard.
After more than twenty minutes of this, finally, she started bleeding down there.
As I watched the blood start to soak through her flesh-colored yoga pants, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.
"Hello? Is this the hospital? My family fell down the stairs. Please, you have to come save her," I cried out, my voice trembling with panic.
The operator's voice was steady. "Calm down, sweetheart. Can you tell me your address?"
"My family's bleeding really badly. Is she going to die?" I sobbed, my voice shaking with fear.
"Don't cry, sweetheart. She will be alright. Stay calm and give me your address," the operator reassured me.
"She fell down the stairs. Are you sure she'll be alright? The bleeding won't stop. Is she going to die?" I wailed, my voice shaking with panic.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. As long as the doctors get there soon, she will be fine," the operator reassured me.
"Really? She told me she's pregnant. Honest, I didn't push her. She fell on her own. It wasn't me," I cried, my voice trembling with panic.
The operator's voice was starting to get impatient. "Yes, I know it's not your fault. Can you please tell me your address now?"
"If my dad finds out something happened to my mom, is he going to beat me to death? Ma'am, I'm really scared," I wailed, my voice trembling with panic.
"It won't happen. Don't worry. Now, can you please tell me your address?" the operator said, trying to stay calm.
"I'm totally screwed. Dad's never going to forgive me. Maybe I should just run away."
The operator was about to lose it. "For the last time, what's your address?"